VIRGINIA STATE UNIVERSITY'S LITERARY JOURNAL

The Concrete Rose

by Branson Neuman

A rose by any other name is just as sweet
So says the rose that grew from the concrete
Adamant and weakened, but never tastes defeat.
So says the rose that grew from the concrete.
Grandma was his love. She was religious to the core.
Scars he’s worn and tore and has covered the damn floor,
In buckets of tears that he seems to drown within;
These same tears many have cried on the streets.
So says the rose that grew from the concrete.
Possibly, purported to be the Phenom underneath,
Who is he? But a child of God, momentarily in heat.
Momentarily, he warily reflects and then he weeps!
So says the rose that grew from the concrete.
He has made it to a different place. The environment is dangerous.
He finds that hazardous waste has spilled throughout the areas.
Is it better to love and lose or keep loving after you’ve lost?
The rose creeps like TLC. He seeps into the moss.
Petals less than thorns now, his flaws are more pronounced.
He’s had nights where he has starved and now his age is hard to count.
He feels like he’s an infant in a world that’s on its knees.
So says the rose that grew from the concrete.